Battle Magic

Slowly Big Milk straightened one foreleg, then the other. Evvy squeaked, then bit her lower lip to keep from doing so again. She yelped. Her lip was one of the injuries from the fort that was not completely healed.

Big Milk ignored both noises. She set off briskly along the shore of the lake, headed deeper into the cave.

THE TEMPLE OF THE TIGERS

THE CONFLUENCE OF THE TOM SHO AND SNOW SERPENT RIVERS

It was clear that Soudamini would go half mad before all of the western troops had packed up and ridden north.

“We’ve been through this before,” Parahan told her, an arm around her shoulders. He and Briar had taken her up onto the roof before the westerners could hear her mutterings. “These people don’t fight for a living. Well, perhaps the temple folk do. As the war goes on, they’ll understand the importance of starting the march at dawn, not starting to pack at dawn.”

Souda gnawed a thumbnail and swore to herself in Banpuri.

“Our people are all ready to ride,” Briar said in consolation. He stared toward the distant river, hoping for the slightest hint that Rosethorn was coming. He wasn’t unhappy that the westerners were holding them up.

“They may as well have slept late for all the good it will do us!” Souda replied, her husky voice a soft growl. “Who drew the short straw so we left last, anyway?”

“You,” Parahan said.

“You may as well tell our people to unsaddle their mounts and run some weapons practice,” Souda told her twin.

“Already did,” he replied.

Then Briar felt it, the lightest touch of green. He inhaled and forgot to breathe out, waiting. There it was again. Suddenly his chest hitched and he began to hack, unable to catch his breath. Parahan shoved a flask of tea into his hands. Briar gulped half of it down. When he could breathe properly again, he stretched his power as far as it would go. That touch was a little stronger. It connected to his magic; he knew it like his own.

“I think you’ll be happy we’re last,” he said casually.

Parahan’s face lit. “Rosethorn?”

Briar nodded.

It was almost noon when Captain Lango’s people rode through the gate on their way north. Briar went to the twins, whose companies were next. “I’ll meet her and catch up with you,” he said. “I think she’ll reach the river crossing by midafternoon.”

Parahan beckoned to Jimut, who came forward with saddled horses. “I have a fresh mount for her,” Jimut said. “And you do not go without a guard.”

Briar was too nervously eager to even consider an argument. After everyone said their farewells to the chief priestess and the temple commander, Parahan’s and Souda’s companies rode out the north gate. Briar and Jimut went south together with the squad of ten warriors that Parahan had insisted upon. Before they left the temple behind, Briar stopped and said good-bye to the orange stone tiger, ignoring the odd looks of the soldiers.

They walked their horses down to the river to wait and ate the meal they had cajoled out of the temple cooks. Two of the soldiers stood guard, watching north and east, while the others rested and talked. Briar paced the riverbank. He had no idea of how he was going to tell Rosethorn about Evvy. The idea of doing it made his stomach twist.

Clouds were spreading across the sky when Briar saw a flash of green — real green — atop the road that led into the Drimbakang Lho. He yipped, then clenched his hands so tightly his nails bit into the tattoos on his palms. The blooms and stems of his tattoos, swiftly turning into roses of every color, protested his grip. He apologized, silently. The enemy was supposedly gone from the area, but he and his companions had agreed to be cautious. Making noise at the sight of Rosethorn was not anyone’s idea of cautious behavior. Instead he leaped up and down, waving frantically. He stopped only when she raised an arm to indicate she had seen him, and urged her mount to a trot.

They met on his side of the bridge, where she swung off her horse and hugged him very hard. She smelled to him of pine, wood smoke, and the chamomile she used for headache tea. He saw no sign of that nasty leather pack she had carried away with her. She looked like his good old Rosethorn, fixed on the here and now. Her brown eyes were sharp as she looked him over.

“What is it?” she asked. “Your eyes are puffy. You look like you’ve been dragged backward through a bush. Tell me.”

“Evvy,” he said, and his throat closed up.

Jimut took charge of her horse. Rosethorn guided him to the riverbank, where they sat. Once he could speak again, Briar told her about the letter and Evvy’s stone alphabet. Then he held her. For too short a time they mourned.

“We should go,” Briar said hoarsely at last. “We have to catch up with the supply train by dark, just to be safe.”

Rosethorn went to the river and soaked two handkerchiefs in the cold water. She wiped her face with one and gave the other to Briar. A light rain had begun to fall. “At times like this it’s hard to be a good dedicate and to trust in the gods that all things happen for a reason,” she said, her voice hoarse. “She had such a hard life. I feel that the gods owed her something better for longer than she had it.” She looked at her handkerchief and twisted it dry. “Since I never get an answer from the gods, I shall have to work my frustration out on Weishu and his armies.”

Briar nodded. She had put his rage into words. They would make Weishu pay.

Rosethorn put her arm around him as they walked over to the others. They were already mounted up. Jimut passed her the reins of the fresh mount they had brought for her. The one she had ridden this far was with their spare horses. Rosethorn stopped briefly to give him a handful of oats, then swung into the saddle on the fresh horse.